I’m going overseas tomorrow – hiking for three weeks in the Himalayas, if you want to know – and it’s just occurred to me that my long hair is going to be a huge pain in the behind. I could just shave it all off, I suppose. I’ve done it before and it wouldn’t out of place with the expat/backpacker brigade I’ll no doubt end up hanging out with. The problem is that I’ll be flying home via my mother’s wedding in Dubai, and she’s made me promise not to be too out-there with whatever look I choose to rock up with. I agreed because it seemed easier than arguing the point.

Point is, I really need to get to a hair salon in the Melbourne CBD, and fast. Ideally, it’ll be somewhere that can give me a low-maintenance, short haircut that will look class enough to appease my mother. What form such a cut could might take, I don’t know, which is precisely why I need a great hairdresser to put their professional two cents in. Hit me with that measured advice and styling guidance! I’m all ears (or I will be, after my haircut).

Come to think of it, it would be good to grab some hair care products to go. Note to self: remember to decant them into those little customs-friendly bottles. Lately, I’ve been using a pretty nice shampoo and conditioner by Aveda. Hair salons that stock this stuff: show yourselves. Even with short hair, I’m still going to want some decent products for the wedding – either that or risk sporting a bizarre frizz bomb from some terrible 2-in-1 product that came free with my hotel room.

If I’m going to be bothering to go to a proper salon, perhaps I’ll go the whole hog and get a colour job into the bargain. I wonder if any salons around here work with naturally-derived hair dyes? Some kind of creative full-head colour would be a nice touch… something that will work as well at my mother’s wedding as it while while I’m sweatily struggling up a mountain.

The apartment block that I rent in is getting a makeover, to my mild annoyance. I have zero investment in this building, and don’t really care what it looks like from the outside. Granted, there could be a bit more to the operation than aesthetics – the handrails on the external staircases do look a little wonkier than they probably should.

Currently, it looks like the glaziers are in the process of replacing said handrails with some kind of glass balustrade. Installers in Melbourne seem to have the right idea when it comes to making things look sleek and polished – the frameless glass panels do kind of swank up this dump.

I’m assuming that whoever’s managing this operation is going to do something about the smashed window on third-floor the stairwell. I wonder if this balustrade crew do general residential glazing and glass repairs? Melbourne is the first city I’ve lived in where apartment block residents don’t seem to have rage blackouts when someone puts a football through their window, which is nice. They could probably do with being a little less chill about it sometimes, though – that window has been in that state for a good half a year now. Back in Sydney, the residents’ committee would have gone after the owners with flaming pitchforks months ago.

Come to think of it, there are a few other jobs I can think of for these glaziers, while they’re here. I’d really appreciate a new shower screen, as I can’t help but have my doubts as to whether my existing one is actually of the safety glass persuasion. On top of that, the shower frame and door hands are a fairly gross beige colour – just make them black or silver already.

That’s the problem with renovations: once you pop, you can’t stop. In this case, it’s all out of my hands, but I’m starting to notice things that need doing that I’ve never once considered the whole time I’ve been living here. Maybe I can petition the owner to let me recruit a glazier on my own dime.

Well, at least we have some professional legal experience round here. People keep using our driveway as thoroughfare, and I watch them from the window, silently judging. I use to be able to force people to leave my front garden back in my old house, just by glaring at them. here I’m all the way up on the fifth floor, so the power of my glare is too diminished. I’ve seen a few people rub the backs of their necks, or glance over their shoulders as if concerned they’re suddenly being haunted by an evil spirit, but that’s as much as I can accomplish short of going down there and giving them a piece of my mind.

Now we have Carlita, who studied law at university before realising that her true passions were in sewing quilts for the homeless. She has all kinds of Melbourne business lawyers connections, though. The law world is terribly well-connected, even if a person didn’t actually work in it. I asked Carlita, and she said that she was sure it was a very serious incident of trespassing and she’ll get onto her lawyer contacts right away.

Well, I’ll see that she does. Certainly, she did mention that they were mostly business lawyers, dealing with business, but this IS business. It’s our business, and the business of people trespassing over it. In a business-like manner. Surely any old lawyer will do when we’re talking about a very basic human right: the right to not have your driveway walked upon by people who have no business being there.

I’d have called the police, but I tried that in my old place and they made it clear that the emergency number was not warranted in that situation. That was their opinion, but right now, I am saying that we need a quality commercial law firm based in Melbourne to bear down on this very business-like crime. The full force of it, to make sure no one ever sets foot through that gap in the hedge ever again! Don’t make me move several floors down just so my glare-range is increased.

I am not a happy camper as of late. I’ve been working out in the garden all afternoon and am now feeling rather unwell. It was frightfully warm outside, it’s as if the sun was bearing down upon me alone. Now I’m extremely sunburnt and feeling ill from overexposure to the sun. I went inside to try and cool off but it appears that the air conditioner has ceased to function.

A quick look online has revealed that I am suffering from what is commonly known as heat stroke. I desperately need the house to be cooler than it is right now. I feel most unwell, even after a long cold bath my skin feels far too warm. I spend far too long in the sun admiring the new driveway after the recent concrete resurfacing. Melbourne North has been strangely warm for March, one can only conclude that global warming is the cause.

The reason I was so determined to work in the garden on such a humid day is because I need to get the garden ready for my great aunt’s birthday which is only a few short weeks away. I fear I won’t be able to get the garden landscaped in time. After all the money I spend on the fantastic concrete resurfacing, the empty garden is going to let me down.

I am very concerned about the loss of work time due to this setback. The relatives are counting on me to have the garden prepared for the upcoming festivities. I have my fingers crossed that there isn’t anything more wrong with my me. Relatives have tried to sabotage my effort in the past, well they can think again.

Mark my words, I will be back on my feet in no time. As for the garden, well there is nothing to do but call for reinforcements. As much as it pains me to admit I require assistance. To see the work is completed on schedule, I will be bringing in professionals to help with the landscaping in Essendon.

The landscapers have never let me down in the past. They are responsible for the majestic garden that is currently in need of tending at my domicile. My award winning garden is the my pride and joy. I have let my beauty wither over winter. My bad back has prevented me from pruning and primping my lovely roses, insects have ravaged their once beautiful foliage. I shall begrudgingly relinquish control to the landscapers. I know in my heart that it is more noble to accept assistance than to suffer and fail. My only fear is that my beloved relatives will look down upon me for not completing this task on my own merits.

It’s been several weeks now since I started to take photography seriously. While film has, is, and always will be my first love, there’s something hauntingly beautiful about the silent passage of life as captured in a snapshot. By no means do I profess to be an expert in photography, at the most I’m an amateur with a high quality camera, but I feel that branching out into other fields is crucial for my own personal development.

I know I’ve talked before about taking seemingly mundane things – a leaf on the pavement, a ladder against a brick wall – and transforming them into works of art. As in my ambitions for my documentaries, I want to show the raw and powerful nature of the forces around us that we see passively but largely fall below our collective consciousness.

In a part of what I hope will be my industrialist series, I found a house with the most incredible doors. By that, I mean these doors are completely dilapidated, but for my purposes, it is absolutely perfect. With chipped paint and warped joints, they are in desperate need of an aluminium door replacement. Melbourne homes from the turn of the century are massive. Old doors are so authentic, such a pure reflection of life and so full of unspoken meaning. It’s incredible that a building can capture such a strong sense of abandonment and isolation.

I feel that, if I do it correctly, I can get people to resonate as strongly with these seemingly ordinary objects and sights the way I do. That, through the lens of the camera, I can make others see the wonder and complexity in the world that I see. It’s such power and such a privilege.

I have a problem, though. I have a sneaking suspicion that the house has been sold, meaning that in all likelihood, the new owners will opt for replacement windows. Melbourne could really benefit from preserving relics from the past, like my abandoned house.

My cousin, Fleur, recently told me that she’s been receiving counselling from a psychologist, as treatment for depressive episodes that she experienced following the birth of her daughter a couple on months ago. She told me that, even after only a couple of sessions, it’s been massively helpful.

I was quite surprised to hear all this, as I’d had no idea that Fleur was struggling. She told me that she’d spent some time ignoring the issue before Jake, her partner, had talked into consulting someone about it. Apparently, she’d assumed that her symptoms weren’t sufficiently severe to be taken seriously in a clinical setting, but she’d been wrong about that.

At first, Fleur said, she wasn’t sure how to go about finding a psychologist on the Mornington Peninsula, having never been to one before. She said it was pretty straightforward, and she was able to refer herself rather than going through a GP (although, from the sounds of it, it’s possible to receive Medicare rebates if you have a medical referral).

The psychologist had explained to Fleur that post-natal depression is not that uncommon, and that there are treatments available, including counselling. Fleur has only had a couple of sessions of this so far, but she said it had helped her to come to terms with her daughter’s sleeping problems not being down to her parental fitness. This, she said, was an idea she’d been secretly harbouring, but when it came to light, she was able to acknowledge that it’s a fairly unreasonable one.

When I was a kid, as I recall, my uncle Morris underwent a period of visiting a psychiatrist. Services in Mornington at that the time were not as diverse as they are now, and he had to go in to the Melbourne CBD for his appointments. I’m not sure what that was all about, but in any case, it’s handy that Fleur can have her psychology sessions close to home. No doubt, having a baby is hard enough without added logistical gymnastics around accessing mental health support.

It’s safe to say that the majority of us regulars at Trivia night on Wednesday have come home with food for thought. If you’d told me I’d be leaving the pub that night with a far better understanding about everything from LED lights to commercial solar energy, I’d ashamedly admit I might have pulled a sickie. But I’m glad I didn’t.

We’re used to turning up to an evening of relatively non-mind-blowing questions, but the last Trivia session was something else. The hotel manager was new, and apparently had big visions for our local. This guy is from another planet basically, he keeps about seven jobs so he can fund his charity, an organisation in the Philippines, that rescues families in need. Pretty much everything he does, on some level is about making the world a better place. After five minutes of chatting to him- and there are people basically lining up for a few minutes with him, you can’t help but feel a little more optimistic that there are people like him in the world. Apparently managing our bar is his ‘time out’. Everything he does, has a few levels of meaning attached to it. Which is why he chose to use trivia night as an opportunity to school us on clean energy.

Anyway, after some seriously mind-blowing facts were delivered to our tiny mental thresholds, (did you know it would take less that 0.3% of the earth’s surface, covered in solar panels to meet the planet’s energy needs completely?) most of us were able to see for ourselves that there is no way around finding a better alternative to what we’re doing. We’ve decided to look into solar and we’ll definitely be having commercial LED lights installed. We’ll also be looking into the viability of commercial energy storage using those solar batteries. And we’ll probably never miss trivia again either, as long as this guy is running the show.

People seem to think that cars are big business, and if you have a flash car then you’re ‘all that’. I guess it means you have a lot of money, which is fine. I mean, it’s okay, but what if you do something totally alternative and choose a boat? Now THAT’S setting yourself up for a life of adventure, with a guy who knows how to have a good time.

I never had anyone to talk to about boats when I was little. Most of the other kids just liked dinosaurs or dolls, and here’s me, trying to cobble together my own anchor winch. Melbourne is a bit more friendly to sea-faring now, I guess. And you’d think people would want to know the way to get some quality, well-rated outboard motor servicing when so much of Australia is based on the coast. We all go on about how our country’s beaches are great, people flock to them in the summer, but they don’t go that extra mile and sail around their beautiful bays. It’s really not as expensive as people make it out to be, and definitely not as elitist. Boating folks are friendly folks. Anyone can see that.

And now this guy just shows up at uni on the first day and he’s got his own boat, and he knows all the lingo. Haven’t plucked up the courage to talk to him yet, but I overheard him saying that he ditched his plans to get a car and went with the boat instead.

What a guy. And we have class in the same building, so at some point I’ll have to confess that I, too, am one of the boating folk. I know where to find the best outboard motor servicing in Melbourne, or even where the best bays are to have a quiet Saturday cruise. At least I know I have a friend. We boating folk are just friendly by nature.

Yep, that’s it. Definitely going. It is making progress in a linear fashion, and that’s all that needs to be said on the matter. But for real, becoming a multi-disciplinarian is hard. I’ve always thought I was pretty well-rounded in sports, so I thought…why not play them all? All the most famous athletes specialise, and good for them taking one thing and being good at it, but no one has ever been famous for being pretty good at every sport. It’s always one person being really good at one sport.

So that’s it. Sport 6 days a week, a different one every time. I think it’ starting to mess with my brain a little. I showed up to football practice and briefly wondered where the cricket nets were, as well as wondering why no one was using a bat. Wrong sport; that’s Tuesday night. Still, I don’t think I was really on form that evening either. All my techniques started to blur a bit, and I found myself stepping into kicks in the same way that I step into bat in cricket.

So that’s unhelpful enough, but no I have to replace the indoor cricket netting at my local club because I leapt into it trying to make a diving catch. Nope…that’s baseball. Anyway, I tore it out of the restraints on the ceiling, and it was mortifying. I just totally mixed them up for a moment. And it hurt, too. Both the act of shoving myself into the netting and it collapsing on top of me.

So now that I’ve bought the leisure centre some brand new indoor cricket nets, It’s time to reevaluate. I’m not giving up on my dream to become the ultimate omni-sportsman. But I do need a way to stop them from leaking into each other and ruining my chances of success. Ideally.

That is, the chemical symbol for oxygen, because this Week of Our Lives was all about oxygen therapy. Of course, it was both respectful to the oxygen therapy services in Melbourne and skillfully written, with a touch of the usual subtlety. It’s usually such a prime example of subtle storytelling, albeit with more than enough twists and turns to keep the forums ablaze every week.

So anyway, Viva was trying to establish her business selling herbal supplements to capybara owners, and she got a call from her long-dead Uncle who turned out to be alive, living in Aruba and actually a local celebrity with his majorly successful self-help book: 1001 Ways to Communicate with the Ocean and Other Large Bodies of Water.

Anyway, he heard about the oxygen therapy in Melbourne and sweeping the nation and came back in disguise to experience its services. For you see, Viva’s uncle had developed a severe case of Aruban Bronchitis, for which he had no time, and he thought hyperbaric chambers could help with his breathing issues. Of course, while all this was going on, Lance was feverishly researching the hyperbaric chamber creation process to confirm his theory that his father didn’t actually disappear at sea, but instead time-traveled into the future to save mankind from a great banana shortage. As it turned out, the word he was looking for was ‘hyperbolic’, so the hyperbaric chamber treatments in Melbourne were innocent. AND they helped Uncle Spartacus with his bronchitis, although the episode ended on a cliffhanger as he tried to explain to Viva why he faked his own death, but he was inside the oxygen chamber so she couldn’t hear him properly.

And that’s why, if you’re stepping inside a hyperbaric chamber, you should explain your life secrets to shocked family members beforehand. This show is SO educational, seriously.